


Burned

by SylvaniusOStephans



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:37:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvaniusOStephans/pseuds/SylvaniusOStephans
Summary: At 15, he had saved his siblings from a fire, while his parents he had been out of the country, again. He had been horribly scarred on his face, back, hands, and feet. All of his siblings were taken away from him, and while in the hospital, he had been taken by a secret sect of the government, doing covert ops. Seven years later, he has become an agent, leading a covert group of five men and women. He isn't anything like the protective big brother that he has been. He hasn't seen his family in five years, and yet, somehow, he is contacted by one of his sisters, who has become a hacker. Their youngest brother, Arian, had been kidnapped. Then, his cover is burned, and his family is found, threatened. He has to figure out what happened all those years ago...





	1. Falls Like Ash

Smoke filled his lungs. He felt like he was about to suffocate, but as the flames licked his skin, he was sure suffocation was a better way to end his life than being burned alive. He couldn't leave though. He needed to get the last two of his siblings out of the burning house. This was his fourth trip inside, and, hopefully his last. He had saved the other four already, but with every moment that passed, the worry threatened to burn him alive.

His feet burned, because he wasn't wearing shoes when he had choked on the smoke in the middle of the night. He had already put the kids down, and he was close to falling asleep. It was about three in the morning when the smoke had choked him. The first two of his siblings that he had found had been fine, coughing, and he had barely yelled at them to call 9-1-1, before going back in for the third. Then, the fourth and fifth had managed to catch his attention. Now, he was searching for the last two of the boys.

Aaron, the third youngest of the family at six years old, and Arian were the only ones left in the house. He had managed to get to the boys room, and it was empty. The only room he hasn't searched was the nursery, because it was the hardest to get to. He had been trying to save them. His throat burned, and he buried his mouth in his shirt, hoping to get some of the smoke filtered out, but he still yelled out again, rushing up the burning stairs. Finally, he heard something over the crackles, a soft cry. He looked over to the blocked doorway, and braced himself. He looked around for something to break down the door.

His only thoughts were on getting inside the room. He was coughing, but didn't worry about that. He shouldered the door, trying to break it down. It didn't budge. He kicked it, as hard as he could, again and again, until finally it started moving under the pressure. His arm burned, his feet burned, and he hissed in pain, but once again, he ignored it.

Finally, he managed to break it down. Both six year old Aaron, and two year old Arian were there, the older was curled up, using his own shirt to cover their mouths, and trying to protect his youngest brother. He rushed over to them, putting his shirt over the mouths of the children. He slid it over his shoulders to force the boy to hold onto him on his back, and managed to get Aaron’s hands around his neck, while slipping Arian on his hip. The weight of both children was almost too much, but he would get them out.

Something fell behind him, causing Aaron to whimper in his arms. He tightened his grip around the little one, and adjusted the older child as carefully as he could, rushing down the hallways and the stairs towards the door. One of the flames popped, embers burning his face and hitting his cheek, jaw, and ear. He carefully ignored it, and let Arian bury his head into his neck.

His entire body ached, and shook, his lungs hurt, but right now, all that mattered was the children breathing. His own breathing was shallow, thanks to the smoke filling his lungs/ He was almost positive that he wouldn't live to the next day, but all that mattered to him was getting these boys out Every breath, hurt, but he wasn't going to stop.

Finally, at the front door, he managed to get out. His siblings, or most of them, were screaming, crying, and yelling for him. He shifted the two again, and managed to get a few steps away from the house, before collapsing on the front lawn. His body moved the children, subconsciously, so that he wouldn’t accidently hurt them. His oldest younger sibling, 10 year old James, ran over to him. He barely managed to hear the younger yelling for him and pulling the children from his grip. Ashes and embers threatened to burn him alive, and the smoke was still thick in the air as James ran away with the younger two.

Once they were safe, James tried to yank his brother further from the flames, but it was too hot, and the flames getting too big. The sirens sounded in the distance, and he rushed to the younger kids.

Very little would be forgotten by the boy who had risked his life in the flames. His reward would be having his siblings stolen from his care, and waking up burned, scarred, and alone. That would be the first time that he had been completely and utterly alone.

It didn't matter to anyone else that his parents had basically only come home for about a week every year, and he raised the other five basically from the time he could talk, or that their only nanny had been fired when James was two, and he was seven. It didn't matter that his entire family was distant from his parents.

All that anyone would tell him was that his siblings were safe, and already out of the country. With who, he didn't know, and he wasn't sure if the fire had affected them in any way either.

It was a strange thought, waking up in the hospital and finding that everything he had always known was gone, and that he was forever alone. He hadn't had a full night of sleep in years, as it was always his job as the oldest to take care of the youngest, and all the kids. He wouldn't ever have Arian wake him up crying, or any of the others having him help with their school work. He had been more of a parent to his siblings than an older brother.

He wasn't sure where to go from here, as he had been left behind. His parents didn't ever say that they didn't want him, but that was obvious because they had taken his siblings and left him.

He wondered where they were, Italy maybe, France, China, or Russia were also possibilities. He had never really been close to either of his parents, as he was sure they regretted him, and each of his siblings that came after him. He had been left alone extremely young, and very protective of his siblings, as each time he saw his parents, it was usually to drop off a new baby in his arms. He didn't hate his parents, not really, but he certainly started to resent them.

He was protective of his little siblings, and now, they were gone. He was alone. He didn't know what he was supposed to do now. Was he going to go into the system? Was his family going to come back for him? Was he going to have to live on the streets? How was he going to pay for the hospital bills?

That said nothing about the fact that he couldn't even move his hands, or stand, as his feet were burned with third degree burns. His face was permanently burned as well. He hadn't seen his hands or feet yet, but, he had been able to look in the mirror. The entire left side of his face was decorated in burns, with his entire part wrapped, including his eye.

He had only seen it for a moment, in between the wrappings.

It was disturbing, and his entire body ached. He couldn't do anything, though, nor could he actually take anything to help him not hurt. He squeezed his good eye shut, and leaned back in his bed. He needed a plan, he just...

He needed to figure out what was the best way to take care of this situation. He was too young to get a job, and he didn't have an education, not a full degree, anyway, as he mostly worked online towards his diploma.

He cursed softly. He needed something, anything, to focus on besides his family. He would survive this. He could and would get through this, and hopefully, find his kids.

That was the day that he, the big brother, died, and Kasper was recruited. He didn't know that no one would ever see the old him again. Cosmin Viktor-Markus Vasilev had succumb to his injuries.

But Kasper, his story was just beginning


	2. Everchanging History

*Seven Years Later*

He took a deep huff of the cigar between his lips, letting the smoke sit in his lungs for a few moments before blowing softly. The dull overhead light made the burns on the left side of his face more obvious than, but he didn't care. If anyone else had been in the room, he might have been sitting up straight on the chair, but he was alone. No one else would see him balancing on the back legs of the chair, smoking his fifth cigar in the last hour, as he waited. The radio in his ear was silent, but that didn't mean that he wasn't listening carefully for something.

He tried to force himself to relax, this was his team. He trusted them to know what they were doing. They had yet to let him down after three years of doing both solo and group covert ops, and assassinations. They were professionals, and knew what they were doing.

The only reason he was so unnerved was because this was an assassin, a quiet one that no one else would ever know about. The target was going to be surrounded by people, and this was a very bad man. He would be out there with his team, but he couldn't today. His team needed him here.

He took another deep inhale of the smoke, eyes glued to the surveillance screen in front of him. He preferred to be on the go, dancing around the press and the lights, but today, he was working from the background. This needed to be perfect.

He ran a hand through his ginger hair, and sighed loudly. This entire mission was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth, but they hadn't failed yet, and he wasn't to going to start now.

"Come on, Charlie," He muttered to himself, looking at a woman with perfectly curled dark brown hair and light blue eyes. She looked gorgeous, as usual, in a little black dress, cozying up to their target while sipping on her champagne. Every now and then, she would glance to James, one of her teammates who was a waiter at the event.

She knew better, but she was the newest one in their little group. Estella had only worked under his leadership, for the last six or so months. She had never known the original "Boss", or the one who had carefully picked the four of them to work together. James, their explosion expert for their more showy works, Cole, their resident nerd who knew guns like no one else could, Charlotte, their main seductress, and him, the one with the plan. He was the one who could see their moves, and the moves of their targets before they even thought about making them.

He shook his head roughly in exasperation as Estella giggled and wrapped an arm around their target, effectively distracting him so that Charlotte could slip the powder in his champagne. He wasn't sure what she had mixed up, but he knew he didn't want to know. Charlotte could be sadistic when she wanted to be. Before Estella came on their team, Charlotte was responsible for the role of the seducer. She was much more content not having old, sweaty guys try and catch her attention. She had moved further into the poison world, while Estella had become their seductress. 

Cole adjusted his glasses, signaling to the rest of the team that it was time to go. Unlike the other three, he was dressed as a server, and keeping a distance from the girls.

James was enjoying himself, with a pretty girl on each arm, speaking fluent Russian, under his cover of being a rising star in the eyes of the mafia.

He shook his head as James clearly ignored the signal that had the other two start their protocol for leaving a site quickly and quietly. He half wondered if he would have to send Cole to sort out his annoying teammate. His head fell back and he took another huff as he wondered for what has to be the hundredth time why he ever let the obnoxious blonde out of the getaway car. Cole was more than enough protection, being armed to the nines under the white dress shirt and pressed black slacks. The man was a total gun addict, and a damn good shot. 

James'... expertise was in a different field. He was, as the rest of the team affectionately called, the Boom Man. His personality matched the explosives perfectly, as both seemed to go off with little to no warning. James liked to think that he was a rough and tough kind of man. He and the others kindly refused to deny the man's delusions, to their grief. As with all of them, James was trained to fight, but he couldn't wield guns like Cole, poison like Charlotte, or physical fights like Estella had become known for. As shallow as it sounded, James lived to challenge his authority. 

Part of it, he knew, was because the suspicion around his name, Kasper Dorran Hendrix. James didn't believe his name was actually his name, which wasn't exactly wrong. The other had thought it was an alias, like James was for him. Not that it was a bad idea, but unfortunately, it was true. He wasn't stupid enough to use his real name, or anything close to it, in case it was traced back to his family. He was the only one out of their group who knew everyone's real names. His real name, one that he didn't even dare think very often, was different than the others. He wasn't hiding his name because he was ashamed of his past, like the other four, no, he was denying who he was because it was the only way to make sure that his family stayed safe. His real name, funny enough, wasn't Kasper, but Cosmin Viktor Markus- Vasiliev to be exact. He missed his old name, missed hearing his siblings calling him Cosmo, but the name had died, a long time ago.

James, or Jamie, if he had his way, went by the name James Thomas, but his real name from Frederick Kincaid, from a small town in Detroit. Frederick had grown up with an absent father, a mother who worked too much, and still ended up abandoning him on the streets. Frederick had developed a fascination at a young age for all things that could explode. He was more likely to blow up his problems than actually face them. He was only twenty- three, but he was the least mentally developed out of the four of them, not counting Estella.

Cole Lorring, the calmest man on the team with a fascination with guns, was also known as Richard Sinclair, who grew up in the system, and aged out at sixteen. He had a nasty past, one that caused him to develop psychopathic tendencies, even if it wasn't ingrained in his personality. At twenty- five, he was far different than he had been, more confident in his abilities, without letting the guilt of death overwhelm him. He was their main assassin.

Alexai Quinn, better known nowadays as Charlotte Marsden, was their poison expert, completing her first kill before she was even a part of their team. She grew up with an abusive father, and a mother who died the day she was born. Charlotte developed her first mix of toxins at ten, mixing cyanide into her father's coffee after he had broken several of her bones, and threatened to start sexually abusing her with his friends. She was the youngest recruit on the Burned team, having joined before she was even a teenager, and becoming their seductive poison mistress at twenty- four.

Estella Benoni, though, had it worse than most. Her mother was a drug addict, who had started injecting her two year old daughter with drugs to keep her quiet. She was also the most bitter about her real name, Selina Gavin. She was their youngest, at only nineteen, but that didn't mean she was defenseless. She was trained on the streets, at first, to fight, but now, she was trained to fight in eight different ways. She could kill anyone she wanted to, and hadn't touched a drug in years.

As it was, James and the others hardly called his Kasper, and never called him Kazz. No, to them, he was Boss, or Whisper, if you were to ask James. Apparently, hearing him mutter instructions in their ear was irritating after a while. It was really strange, at first, for him to be called Kasper, but he liked to think that he was continuing his existence to keep his country, and his family, safe.

That said, it was still amusing hearing James mutter 'oh shut up, whisper' every couple of days. James was the one who was more often than not his trouble maker. He was the only one who had obviously defied his orders. He was more of the wanna be cool man, but seeing as he was skinny as hell, it was more of an inside joke between them.

He knew he needed to get James' attitude under control, but seeing as it was more amusing than not, he had avoided saying anything just yet. He would have to start though, if James didn't get his head out of his ass soon.

He straightened his spine, snapping to attention as his eyes spotted something strange. There was something wrong. Kazz's eyes scanned the screen, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong. His mind went from stressed and paranoid to cold and calculating as he tried to figure out what exactly he was seeing.

The venue was still just as bright and elegant as it had been, and the guests seemed just as obvious. There were, however, a few people, that just seemed....wrong. The first was a smug blonde, who kept moving his eyes from one man, a thickly jacketed, stubbly dark haired man, to another waiter who was walking around with a tray. Either he was hungry, or they were working together.

Probably a newbie, Kazz noted, seeing the man's eyes dart back and forth again. He snorted silently, and shook his head. Newbie or not, he wasn't going to let his guard down. He wanted his team gone.

"Listen up, people. A, finish putting the powder down. E, make your excuses and get the car. J, sneak out and help E, keep an eye on the idiot blonde. You'll know the one. C, it's time to get out of this place. Move it people! I want that car out front of this place, like five minutes ago." As a rule of thumb, Kazz was very hard to unnerve. He had seen a live dissection, and not even blinked. He had watched a captive of his tear out their own tongue with strength that had something to do with an illegal drug. He had seen assassinations go south so quickly, he was still confused as to what had happened.

That said, he was resisting the urge to panic. His group was in danger, and he wasn't there! There was something extremely unnerving about having these people, whoever they were, so close to his own team. His team, carefully, didn't react. He was expecting them not to actually make any sudden moves, but James, well, he didn't do what he should have.

Instead, James started kissing one of the beautiful girls, letting the other on his arm grab him another drink.

He resisted the urge to yell at the idiot. "James! You need to go! Now! There's something wrong with this place!"

Cole smoothed down his shirt, "What do you see W?" He asked quietly, muttering as silently as he could.

"Enough." Kazz said quietly, "You all need to get the hell out of the hall. Don't touch anything, don't eat or drink anything. Just get your asses back here! J, Move your ass!" He didn't trust the, what, four people that were acting off. He didn't want his team anywhere near the idiots.

"Lighten up, boss man." James muttered calmly. "We're professionals. We know what we're doing."

He resisted the urge to snort. Sure they were. This entire night, he had noticed that his team was completely out of sync. It seemed like Cole and Charlotte were getting annoyed with their partners. He ran a hand through his hair. His entire group was starting to fall apart.

"Do I have to drag you out of there?" Cole muttered to his partner, taking a few steps back.

James rolled his eyes. "Oh shut up nerd. You don't know anything! It's a party, bud, lighten up." 

"Guys!" Kazz snapped, "Seriously? You are adults! Get your minds together!" He had known that it was a bit risky putting both James and Cole on the same floor, but that said, he needed the girls to each have someone to keep a close eye on them. Cole had been watching Estella, while James was supposed to be watching Charlotte. It seemed that both Charlotte and Cole were actually doing their jobs, and the other two were being childish.

He rubbed his eyes, and took another deep breath of the smoke. "Look, is now really the time for you to be arguing? A, get E out, now. C, you know what to do."

Cole nodded lightly, and slipped back into the shadows, while Charlotte 'accidently' spilt her champagne on Estella's dress, making her screech. Cole snuck around the room until he was behind his idiotic teammate, and subtly pulled his ear for a moment, threatening the other with his stormy eyes.

Neither Cole nor Charlotte were putting up with anything else tonight, and really, Kazz thought with a small sigh, the other two should have known better than to push them as far as they had. He made a mental note to have a few training sessions with both Estella and James.

With each passing minute, his eyes spotted something else, something that his brain couldn't understand. Only a minute after his team evacuated the building, the people inside started dropping like flies, mouths foaming, and eyes rolling back.

One of the people he had been watching looked directly into the security camera, and smirked, stepping over the bodies of the dying men and women, and out of his view. The blonde had gone overboard, he thought darkly, there were seventy- eight guests, including his own team, in that room, and already, most were dead.

"A, report." He commanded through his teeth.

"C, E, J, and I are on route. Estimated time of arrival is about fourteen minutes obeying traffic laws." She told him calmly, "What do you see, boss?"

He grit his teeth tighter, as his eyes took in the scene of panic and death from the building that his team just left. "Get here in ten." He said shortly, moving his attention back to his cigar as he tried to figure out exactly what had happened. Were they spies from another agency? Another government? Did they know that their carelessness endangered his own team? Who was their target? Who did they work for? How many were there?

His mind jumped from idea to idea, not really making much sense as he skipped from track to track, taking or dismissing ideas and starting new ones. He wasn't sure what exactly had happened, but he did have an idea that he knew someone who did.

The Black ops. Damn. That wasn't even an assassination, it was a damned massacre. Even if they did have the clearance for such a thing, which was higher than his pay grade, they had just fucked up. His team may not have known what happened, or why he was so insistent on them getting the hell out of there, but he did, and damned if Kazz wasn't going to tear into the fool who had just put his family in danger.

He was protective on a good day, and this, it appeared, was far from it. He wanted the blood of the person who had authorized this, and the hearts of the ones who had killed so many without a flinch.

Kazz wasn't a good guy, he wasn't even an alright guy. He had more blood on his hands than he cared to admit, after being drafted in a hospital room at fifteen. He had made his first kill on behalf of the government at sixteen, and now, could probably paint the white house red with all the blood he had spilt on their behalf. He had killed probably hundreds of people by now, but they weren't just a casualty of war. Hell, they technically weren't even in a public war anymore, and while he knew just how important it was to make sure that his country had the best of the best when it came to information, even he still had morals.

Morals.

He wasn't innocent, as he had been trained to kill, interrogate, assassinate, infiltrate, and steal information that would horrify the public if they found out. No, all of his team had taken lives, and been recruited just as young. Charlotte was only fourteen when she had been taken in by the government off the street.

But, he did have a good trait. He was protective, possessive almost, of those he called family. He would kill for them, torture to make sure they were safe, and drown his morals to keep them innocent. Estella, Cole, Charlotte, and James had somehow made the list. The later three had been under his protection for the last two years, and Estella had been the first one that he had carefully picked for his team.

He took another two huffs, harder and harder, before throwing it in the bowl next to the others. He opened the box of his preferred cigars, and carefully selected the next one that he was going to burn. He was in for a long night, and he needed to keep his nerves steady before he did anything.

His team would be there soon, but until then, he had a phone call to make.


End file.
